


Walk Away

by fleshlycherry



Series: Gentleness Series [4]
Category: Earth: Final Conflict
Genre: this one makes me happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-03
Updated: 2011-05-03
Packaged: 2017-10-18 22:13:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/193870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleshlycherry/pseuds/fleshlycherry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life goes on.  A side fic to the Gentleness Series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walk Away

**Author's Note:**

> I am not ashamed of this one! Success.

_Zo’or has just been named the leader of the Synod. It is a Thursday morning._

When Ronald comes into the kitchen, he finds her already dressed. His coffee, as always, is prepared and sitting on the table. He presses a kiss to her temple before picking up the cup.

“How did you sleep?” He sits heavily in his seat, reaching for an unread report, abandoned on the table the night before.

“I’m leaving.” She sounds ready to fight, but Ronald only puts his coffee cup down.

“When?”

“I won’t be here when you get home.”

He says nothing as she rinses out the coffee pot while the kettle boils water for her tea as it has every morning all these months.

She glances at the clock hanging over the microwave. “You’ll be late if you don’t leave now.”

She is not there when he gets home for the next five months.

 

 _The Taelons are creating an army to fight the Jaridians. It is a Monday afternoon._

She is folding laundry, Ronald’s goes into a neat pile, hers into a large duffle bag. He has called to say he will be home for lunch and the sandwiches are on the table when she hears his key in the door.

He eyes her packed bag as she sips juice.

“You’re leaving.”

She nods.

He goes into the bedroom and takes a fat envelope from the third drawer of his bedside table. It is full of cash when she opens it.

Ronald shrugs back into his suit jacket before reaching up to kiss her forehead softly. “Be careful. I hope…”

He folds his own laundry for the next nine weeks.

 

 _The Companions are dying. It is a Wednesday night._

“I’m leaving.” The same battered, old duffle is slung over one shoulder; her face is turned away from him.

Ronald slips the strap down her arm and tosses the bag back towards their bedroom.

“No. You aren’t.”


End file.
